


and we'd ride on, ride on, ferris wheel lights on

by who_won_the_race_back_home



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:12:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_won_the_race_back_home/pseuds/who_won_the_race_back_home
Summary: Given a rare day off, Amaya and Zari head to a state fair to meet a variety of animals and eat foods that under no circumstances should a person actually consume.





	and we'd ride on, ride on, ferris wheel lights on

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Zari Tomaz Week 2018 Day 3: Favorite relationship.
> 
> I wanted to combine my two favorite relationships Zari has, to Amaya and snacks, and I figured going to a fair was the most efficient and adorable way to do it. Also, I personally just love state fairs and have gone to New York's for over 25 years now, so!
> 
> Title from The Gaslight Anthem's "The Patient Ferris Wheel."

“Why does everything have to have frickin' bacon in it? Or on it? Or wrapped around it?”

Zari sighed and looked mournfully at a man eating deep fried Reese’s cups wrapped in bacon. He took a bite and winced in pain, the insides clearly still molten. It made Zari feel a little better.

“It’s not everything. You had that sandwich that was wrapped in a waffle. And those monstrous looking doughnuts,” Amaya said. “Plus, I’m sure they can make it without the bacon.”

“Don’t rag on my doughnut bucket, they were incredible,” Zari said. “And okay, fine. Not everything. But everything that I want to eat right now. And besides, I know they’re putting the bacon in the same fryer so that’s a whole thing that I can’t just, like, feign ignorance on.”

“My condolences,” Amaya said sincerely, before breaking into a laugh and tugging Zari by the hand down another long row of food stands towards a building with a large goat painted on its side.

So. Getting regularly laid had been good for Sara, and even better for everyone else on the team.

She was being weirdly nice. After her and Ava’s disaster of a date, she was trying to return the kindness of giving her a night off (even if they did manage to royally screw everything up). She let Nate and Amaya run off to see Bruce Springsteen at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1975 (and then the Tate, at Amaya’s insistence) while the rest of the team bagged low level anachronisms. And a couple nights later she offered a free day off for Zari and Amaya (Zari had never talked to Sara about the whole situation with Nate and Amaya, and she was incredibly grateful that she didn’t have to. Although Sara seemed like she had probably done the poly thing before anyways).

But now Zari and Amaya were in the goat building at the 2018 Minnesota state fair (Wally had told them to go to one of the state fairs from his time. They were one of his favorite ways to get the billion or so calories he needed to live. Amaya had loved carnivals since she first came to the US, and knew the promise of absurd food was more than enough to convince Zari).

However, Zari quickly noticed there was a distinct lack of goats in the building with the giant goat painted on it. Instead they were surrounded by pens full of unamused looking llamas, chewing hay and eyeing grabby children suspiciously.

“This feels like false advertising,” Zari said, scanning around the room for any sign of goats.

“I guess the goats don’t come in until later this week,” Amaya said, squinting at a schedule taped up on the wall.

“They should paint a llama on the building too. Just so everyone is aware of the situation.”

Amaya smiled and grabbed Zari’s hand again. “Well, then let’s see if we can find a suggestion box.”

They didn’t find a suggestion box. Instead, they came across a large area in the middle of the building, currently occupied by multiple llamas on leashes being maneuvered through some sort of obstacle course.

“What is happening?” Zari said, as she watched one llama begrudgingly step over a very low hurdle. It still managed to knock it over.

“I think it’s literally just an obstacle course for llamas.” Amaya pointed to a board overhead that  announced it was “Llama Performance Class-Obstacle” time.

“Are there economy class llamas?” Zari said with a grin.

Amaya just groaned and lightly slapped Zari on the shoulder. “You need to stop hanging out with Nate.”

Zari laughed and guided Amaya over to rows of stands that had been set up beside the llama obstacle course. It was a sparse crowd, mostly the parents of the kids guiding the llamas around and a few other just as bemused as Zari and Amaya.

“They do not seem thrilled about this whole situation,” Zari said, trying to contain her laughter as one llama refused to budge as its handler tried to get it to walk up a small set of stairs.

“They just like being stubborn. Llamas like doing work, but they know when something is beneath them.”

“That is a very specific temperature read on llamas.”

“Most animals aren’t too hard to figure out if you’re paying attention,” Amaya said, in a way that sounded way more flirtatious than it should have. Zari ducked her head as she felt her face blush.

As they watched a bunch of stubborn llamas navigate the obstacle course, Amaya absentmindedly touched her chest, right where her totem usually rested, and dropped her gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” Zari said, resting her hand on Amaya’s knee, and rubbing her thumb there. “We’re gonna get it back.”

Amaya looked back up at Zari and gave her a small, but genuine smile. “I know. It just–it feels like a phantom limb.”

Zari leaned in and kissed Amaya quick on the cheek. “C’mon, let’s go find something else cute to stare at for a while.”

With a stop to get Zari fried Reese’s cups (at a stand that didn’t sell anything with bacon) and Amaya a funnel cake beer (that sadly, apparently didn’t taste much like funnel cake) they made their way to the building next to the the false goat barn. Over the main entrance was a giant painted 4 leaf clover, with a large “H” painted in the middle of each leaf.

“Oh, 4H,” Amaya said, a little proud she actually knew what something was. “My JSA teammate, Todd, he used to talk about doing this when he was younger.”

“You know what this is?”

“Kind of? I think it’s like a leadership program for rural kids. At least it used to be.”

“Well, I guess we gotta find out then,” Zari said, before stuffing the last of her Reese’s in her mouth, getting a grin from Amaya.

The building was filled with kids set up behind rows of folding tables, most of them clustered in groups or staring at their phones, bored. The tables were covered in tri-fold poster boards and projects about local plants, sustainable gardening, robotics, and a million other things. It did not make it any clearer what 4H actually was.

In one of the back corners Zari spotted something large and precarious looking, and a small part of her wanted to go over just to see if one of the kids running around might actually knock into it, sending it all crashing to the ground. Which, she knew that was mean, but that’s what the kid would get for bringing their whatever it was to a chaos vortex.

The closer they got, Zari realized that it was actually an incredible Rube Goldberg machine involving multiple bowling balls, an elaborate pulley system operated by a water fountain made for pets, and an inflatable guitar. While Zari watched a boot kick over a book that knocked a jug of milk with a string tied around its handle finally pour into a glass, Amaya found something more interesting and tugged on Zari’s sleeve as soon as the glass was full.

“But this so cool, look at the-” Zari began protesting before Amaya grabbed her hand and led her over to a makeshift pond made out of kiddie pool in the middle of the room. Cautiously treading around in the water were a gaggle of baby ducks. A couple teenagers clearly in charge  were bent down low talking to little kids and teaching them to gently pet the yellow ducklings.

“Do you want to hold one?” a girl in a green polo shirt with a bright smile asked Zari.

“Oh, uh, sure?” Zari said, a little startled by the girl’s sudden appearance.

Amaya laughed beside her. “You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s cool. Little ducks are cool.”

The girl picked up one of the wobbly ducklings and promped Zari to hold out her hands. She cupped the duck gently and looked into its tiny beady eyes. Zari wasn’t sure if a duckling could be weary, but this one definitely looked weary, from who knows how many days of being picked up by strangers.

“Hey little guy,” Zari said softly to the duck. It seemed more interested in being anywhere but Zari’s hands. “Given the chance, I think this thing would kill me. Or maybe all of us.”

“She’s all right,” Amaya said, running the back of her finger over the duck’s head. It immediately seemed to calm. “Just a little overstimulated, I think.”

Zari held the duck a few moments longer before the teenage girl took her back, placing her right into the wading pool. The little thing gladly paddled to the other side as fast as her feet go.

* * *

“That’s just–it’s fucked up, that they can get so big,” Zari said, eyes going a little wide at the sight of the winner of the Biggest Pumpkin in Minnesota contest. “Like, what do you even do with that? Make ten thousand pies?”

“Honestly, it probably wouldn’t make very good pie.” Amaya gave it a light rap with her knuckles. “Plus you have to roast it first. It would be a nightmare.”

They both stared at it quietly for a short while, in awe of its sheer size.

“I kinda want pumpkin pie now,” Zari said.

“Well, I’m sure we can find it stuck on a stick and deep fried or dipped in chocolate somewhere around here.”

“God, I hope so.”

They didn’t find pumpkin pie, but Zari stumbled onto something even better. She didn’t even know what it was called, just pointed at a picture and said to the cashier that she needed it, gladly handing over as much money as necessary to get it.

It was multi-colored ice cream (“Superman flavor, ‘cause it’s the Superman colors” the teenage cashier said, as if Zari was the stupidest person in the world), rolled in Fruity Pebbles, and then that was rolled in cotton candy.

Zari had never seen anything so beautiful. Amaya looked horrified.

“Why?” was all Amaya could ask.

“I think why not is the better question,” Zari said, before taking an oversized bite. She already felt like she was close to slipping into a blissful diabetic coma. “This is incredible, you want some?” she said, muffled through a mouthful of cotton candy and ice cream.

“I’m alright.” Amaya tipped her hand up at Zari’s offered plate. “I’m surprised you’ve never had Gideon make you something like this.”

“Then they would know it was something I asked for and then ate. The mutual respect would be destroyed.”

“You two have a very interesting relationship.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

* * *

“Amaya, this game is pretty much impossible to win. It’s a waste of $5.” Zari held her hand out to present the kid standing next to them, firing wildly at his target. By the time he used up his pellets, only half of the star had been blown away.

“Well, most people haven’t gotten small weapons training from the JSA, have they?” Amaya said, handing over a five to the operator. He gave Amaya a smirk and began showing her how the gun worked, but she just took it from him with a tight lipped smile and braced herself against the edge of the booth.

Carefully, Amaya fired in precise bursts in a circle around the star. With more than enough pellets to spare, she shot right at the center and the star drifted to the floor.

“Holy shit,” the carnie said. A nearby mom gave him a dirty look, which made Zari chuckle. He turned to Amaya, flabbergasted. “Uh, we have a winner! Your pick, lady. Any prize you want.”

Amaya looked up at the stuffed toys hanging from the ceiling, an intense look of faux contemplation on her face. She pointed, and the man shuffled over to hand it to her, a large anthropomorphic banana, playing a saxaphone.

“Come back later, and hell, I’ll even give you a free game if you can make people think they got a shot at winning this thing,” he said.

“I’ll think about it,” Amaya said, with a wink to Zari.

“I mean, I know I shouldn’t be surprised, because you’re you, but wow. That might be the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen you do.”

Amaya laughed and looped her arm around Zari’s. “I’ll make sure to add it to my resume,” she said, handing Zari the banana.

They slowly made their way towards the rest of the midway. Rowdy groups of teens jostled in line to get on a horrific looking spinning wheel of death first, beleaguered parents pushed stollers full of sleeping toddlers, and there was one drunk dude bound and determined to conquer the rope ladder game, flipping over and onto his back again and again. The sun was just beginning to set behind a rickety looking roller coaster and they could finally see all the lights flickering in dozens of patterns across the rides.

At the very end of the midway a dog trick show had finished up its final show for the day, leaving a set of bleachers unoccupied. They climbed to the top, giving picturesque a view of the midway, the ferris wheel just starting to light up right next to them.

“Do we have to go back? You know as soon as we step foot on the ship, something’s going to be on fire,” Zari said, leaning back against the chain link fence behind her. “I could do Minnesota. Work IT for some non-profit trying to save the world, you could work at the zoo as a llama whisperer or whatever.”

Amaya cracked a grin. “You know we can’t.”

“I mean, yeah, I know, but can’t we just pretend for a minute? Getting a little place, and a cat or something. Only having to share a bathroom between the two of us! Making snow men or whatever six months out of the year. C’mon, just you, me, and Bill,” Zari said, patting the stuffed banana on its head.

“Bill?” Amaya asked, confused.

“In the future, one of the most enduring images of President Clinton is him playing the saxophone on TV. It was, like, in our textbooks, before school stopped being a thing. I’m naming it Bill.”

“Most of that means...nothing to me.”

“If the ship isn’t on fire when we get back, I’ll give you a history lesson.”

“Nate will be so proud.”

Zari groaned while Amaya laughed gently and leaned against Zari’s shoulder. They sat quietly and stared out over the midway and listened to the screams of kids on rides. After a few minutes, Zari turned to Amaya and kissed her, soft and sweet. There was still even a bit of sugar on Amaya’s lip from a fried dough they had shared.

“Are you sure we have to go back?” Zari whispered, barely breaking their kiss.

Amaya laughed again and tugged on the collar of Zari’s shirt to bring her back in.

**Author's Note:**

> The ice cream cotton candy thing is a real food item you could purchase at this year's Minnesota state fair. I wish desperately to one day eat it myself.
> 
> I also realized, like, 3/4 of the way through writing this that kendrasaunders basically wrote this exact same fic, [so you should go read her fair story too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688949), because it is fucking great.


End file.
